Stranded
by ChineseIsGreek2Me
Summary: Crash landed on a planet of primative apes, ship barely salvigable, unstable funding, skepticism... What? You think you could do better than I am right now? Ha! I'd like to see that.
1. Chapter 1

A/N I like how Author's Notes is the opposite of Not Applicable (N/A). Basically just to let you know I'm sort of abandoning that story Crash I was writing it and making all new and dandy… in other words this. I'll keep the other one up… unless fanfiction dot net tells me to take it down. But yeah, I like this one better, plus it's more fun so far since I've gotten out of bugging my friends to read what I write. So here is Crash reincarnated as Stranded. So sorry if this chapter is really short, I hope that I'll be able to get another one up tomorrow night. Until then, I hope you enjoy what's here and leave your opinion using the submit review option at the bottom of the page. Toodles.

* * *

I was the first to walk down the alleyway. It was nearly midnight, but everything was cast in a flickering, orange light, flinging moving, quivering shadows everywhere. The road my backside faced had been torn up and crushed, and I'd seen remnants of a car strewn nearly the entire path of the destruction. Ahead of me was a car tire, half engulfed in flame, but what we were looking for, the cause of all this, was directly in front of us.

But what was it? It sat silhouetted in its own inferno, ragged and in several beaten pieces. Then I noticed a window embedded in the largest section. I would have ignored the shattered window and come back later for inspection of the cinders left, however something was propped up inside catching my eye. I stopped and stood at a safe distance from the raging flame and squinted trying to figure out what it was inside. The two policemen I had for guards stopped on both sides of me and asked what I was looking at. And to be honest, at first I wasn't sure, but it seemed to be in the relative shape of a person.

My eyes widened all of a sudden, this piece of wreckage that I was staring at was jutting out of the blaze, and it might be possible to get him out. I yelled at the men that there was someone in there as I began to run towards the flaming wreckage.

The three of us got what I assumed to be the unconscious pilot out, but were surprised that this was not a person, but a human, my evolutionary sibling.


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: Ah, hello there again, if you're reading this then that means you got past the incredibly short first chapter. That's good, so here's a second chapter that _is_ short… but not as short as the first. I hope that I'll be able to crank out some good ol' long chapters eventually. And I will personally thank anyone who complements or criticizes any aspect of my work. Right now, all I have to say is that www. Thesaurus. com (without the spaces) is my friend. Oh how I worship the oh so powerful online thesaurus, ah, I throw flowers to thee and sacrifice my time to look up words with your holy search engine.

Chapter 2

The FBI specifically taught me that if the neck or spine of a fellow person has possibly been injured to do as much as possible to leave the head and neck be until medical personnel have the ability to reposition the head and neck, but I didn't know if this logic would or would not apply to the animal before me, so for now I wouldn't touch it.

I heard the sirens of fire engines in the distance, coming from the west, and the presence of a New York Law Enforcement helicopter flew overhead with a blinding spotlight, gracing the scene with its authoritative presence. It would be interesting to see what headlines the media would come up with tomorrow. Until then I would probably report on what I had seen and done, stay for the extinguishing of the orange inferno, and then go home as other, more experienced agents could take over.

oOo

----

I was assigned to tend all wounds and trauma this creature had received. In other words the FBI wanted to have a few answers ready to release to the press. This way they could have fun prodding the interiors of the ship and not worry as much about the media trying to invade FBI facilities and running into information not meant for the public to know of. Apparently this 'spaceship' had plowed face first onto a street in Harlem and had cartwheeled about four blocks of, luckily, unoccupied asphalt into an empty alleyway, settling in the dead end as burning hunks of twisted metal. There were witnesses, don't get me wrong, they just weren't in the middle of the street that the flaming cartwheel was about to demolish, so no dead innocents, just surprised ones. But none of this was my concern.

My concern is the wellbeing of the creature lying on the dissection table before me. And before you go any further with the assumption you probably just made, no, I am not planning on, nor am I going to perform a vivisection, it was merely the only sterile surface immediately available at the time that we could treat this mammal. So far I have seen no scratches or bruises except for one large cut on this female's forehead of which I am now inspecting. I would have to do one more thing to be able to successfully diagnose a concussion. But I'll leave that out for you, nothing but boring doctoring procedures.

'''-,.+ ------ +..,-'''

Alright, now I've gone through the monotony that would have caused some of you extreme boredom, especially those who can't wait five minutes for results. No concussion, which is surprising judging by the course the ship took. No burns, no bruises, no broken bones, no brain trauma, nada. There was nothing to do but get a bandage to patch up the single cut on her forehead. It was as if there was no purpose for my job at this moment; any individual at the crash site could've whipped out a band-aid and slapped it on her bald little forehead so that the money the government had just wasted paying me and my assistants to look over this specimen for any slight sign of injury wasn't wasted. My ability to look this human over directly after an emergency situation could have been done by any of the ambulance personnel, humans, after all, have about 95 of the same genetic code as chimpanzees, but it's not like they knew that or anything. So I got a little cash out of it at least. Fortunately my superior in human studies was unable to attend the greeting with this unconscious human, because he would have made the process go by much quicker than I had, and since everyone here in my field is paid by the hour we ended up with a little more than we normally would have.

Anyway, all we could do at the moment was leave her in a secure room, filled with what she may have had in her previous environment, such as a tire swing, hay, ferns, climbing structures, food and water, and even a few children's toys. Other than that we could do nothing to ease her awakening but wait… or at least all we could do with supplies we already had and a shoestring budget that had been going on a funneling path for the past few years. But that's beside the point, this new human would awaken in a few hours and my superior, Doctor Bleu, would be here in about 40 minutes. Yes yes, his long commute amazes me as well, but he prefers a small house outside of the mansion filled suburb of which he could easily afford good housing, but he prefers to not live in a house that, in his own words, are "built in a factory and then distributed to wealthy suburbs where they are overpriced to make the highest maximum profit possible, trust me, get something done artistically if you want something to be that expensive and still be worth the cash."

So now, we wait.


End file.
